Back From the Dead
by SlightlyBlackSheep
Summary: Written for FireBird128's SYOT competition. This is the story of Prim's death, and the day, years later, she returns to District Twelve.


Primrose Everdeen's POV:

_Command_.

I stare down at the purple lettering on my arm. Command. I'm needed in Command right after breakfast. Why would they want me in Command? I'm just a nurse in training. Despite my pleas, they haven't integrated me into even the rebel medics' lowest ranks because I'm only thirteen. One more year.

A thought hits me. What if this is about Katniss? She left for the Capitol a while ago. She didn't even tell us. They summoned Mother to Command later that day, and it was she who relayed the news on to me.

What if something's happened to her? What if Katniss is dead, or taken hostage by the Capitol? Just recently Snow sent out a false alarm, claiming that Katniss and her crew was dead. But they never found all of their bodies, and we again had hope.

But what if this time it isn't a false alarm? Coin has lost connection with them, and all we know is that they're somewhere in the Capitol. But surely Snow would tell us if they got Katniss. He'd air her execution live. What if this is it?

I don't want to see her die.

But I can't disobey Coin. Not if I ever want to be a medic for the rebels. It's been my goal for months. No, I can't skip Command. I must go, see what they want of me.

Breakfast ends, and I return my plate. I kiss Mother and hurry out of the cafeteria.

They're all already there when I arrive. Maybe they have earlier breakfast hours. Maybe they skipped the meal for an important reason, like...like the Mockingjay's death.

"Ah. Primrose. Have a seat." President Coin nods at an empty chair.

Nervously, I sit down. "Is Katniss okay?"

"I have no idea," Coin says smoothly. "As you know, communications with her squad have been down for days."

So this isn't about Katniss. She's still alive, as far as they know. My spirits lift slightly.

"So, you wanted me?" I look around the table expectantly.

"Yes." Plutarch sits back, hands clasped behind his head. "Primrose, tell us. How has your training been going? In the hospital, I mean?"

"It's been great," I say. "I'm learning so much. They've been allowing me to work in more wards. I was treating some of the latest refugees from Six yesterday. Their Peacekeepers have gotten more...inventive."

"So I've heard." Coin inspects me closely. "Primrose, we've talked to the head of the medics."

I sit up straight. "You did?"

"Yes. I hear they originally didn't want you until you turned fourteen, is that correct?"

"Yes." Originally?

"We talked to them," Coin says. "You have proved to be an able nurse, despite your young age, and we need as many medics as we can get. So, we have decided to allow your integration into the medical forces."

"When do I start?" I ask eagerly.

"Today," she says simply.

"The medics leave for the Capitol today," Plutarch explains. "Be ready immediately after lunch. Go to the hangar. There you will meet the head medic. She will tell you what to do, where to go."

I look at my arm. _Hangar_. I'm going to the Capitol in just a few hours. I might even see Katniss.

* * *

We rush into the blockade. The burned-out parachutes smolder beside the dead children, the wounded children. The ground is littered with blood, grime, colorful shards of Capitol glass.

A small boy sits on the ground, trembling in a thin shirt and trousers. His back is pressed against the wall. Just feet in front of him is a parachute, on of the ones that went off. He holds another in his hands.

I remove my medical coat and put it around his shoulders. I shiver in the cold, but this child is my priority right now. His feet are blackened due to the parachute in front of him, and he cries in fright and pain.

"Prim!"

I start. I'm ready to explain myself to the head medic, tell her that this child needs the coat more than I do. But it isn't her.

"_Prim!_"

I recognize the voice. I straighten and look around. And then I see her.

Katniss. Clutching a lamp post, half hidden, her dark hair hidden under her hood, I can hardly recognize her. But I know it's her. My eyes widen, and my lips form her name.

Then there's a blast, and the parachute in the boy's hands explodes in a frenzy of plastic, metal, and dust.

And then everything goes black.

* * *

I'm back at the fence. I wear the white medical blouse I wore that day, the plain pants. I stand at the fence that separates District Twelve from the woods, facing our old house.

Or rather, the place our old house once stood. A newer, larger place is now here, and an old couple sits outside, holding hands. I don't recognize them. They don't seem to notice me.

This is District Twelve. But didn't the Capitol drop their firebombs on this place? Turn it into a place of smoldering ashes? Maybe this is a dream.

And then I remember: I'm dead. The blockade. The first explosion. The head medic ordering us in. The little boy. And then Katniss.

And then the final explosion. What happened afterwards? I don't know. But I was dead. I know that.

Where would I find Katniss? I wander the streets of the Seam, the town, Victor's Village. And I find her.

"Come back soon!" It's Katniss. The voice is hers. I have no doubt about it. I look for my sister, and I find her. She's at the door of a house, and as soon as I see her, she goes inside and closes the door.

Was she talking to me?

No, it seems she was addressing the two children who are frolicking at the edge of the Meadow. A girl a few years younger than I, an even younger boy. I don't recognize them.

I make a beeline for the older girl. "Excuse me," I say politely.

"Who are you?" She stares at me. "You look familiar."

"I do?" I frown. "I'm Primrose Everdeen. I don't believe I know you."

The girl laughs. "Sure you're Primrose Everdeen."

"I am," I say.

"No, you're not," she says matter-of-factly. "Mom says Prim died. You're not dead."

I look down at my pale hands. "I should be."

"If you were Prim, you'd be dead," she states. "But you're not dead. Ergo, you're not her."

"I should be dead," I repeat.

"Mom says Prim died in the rebellion," the girl tells me. "And anyways, if you were her, you'd be a lot older. How old are you? Twelve?"

"Thirteen."

"Prim died when she was thirteen," the girl says.

"I know."

"And you're alive. Don't pretend to be someone dead." She smiles. "Mother would be so happy if it was actually Prim."

"Who's your mother?" I know the answer, but I need to hear it.

"Katniss Everdeen," she says importantly. "The Mockingjay."

My eyes widen. "I need to see her."

"No way." The girl shakes her head, smiling ruefully. "You would just upset her, saying you're Prim."

"I need to see her," I repeat.

The boy runs up. "Who're you talking to?" he asks the girl.

She gestures toward me. "To this girl here. She says - "

She breaks off and stares at me.

"What?" I ask gently.

The girl shakes her head. "I'm going crazy," she mutters to the boy. "I thought for a second - I thought there was someone here. I thought I was talking to them."

"I am here," I try to say, but she doesn't seem to hear me.

"Let's go inside," the girl says. She grabs the boy's hand and drags him to the house. She bangs on the door until Katniss opens it. She lets them in.

"Katniss!" I shriek. "Katniss!"

Katniss's head shoots up. Her eyebrows crease in concentration, and she shakes her head, as if to clear it. She doesn't see me.

"Katniss!"

She looks up again, and her eyes sweep across the street. They finally land on me, and her eyes widen. Her lips form my name, and I stretch my hand out toward her.

"Katniss."

I walk toward my sister, tears in my eyes. And then I can't move. I'm frozen, just meters away from her.

"Prim," she whispers.

And then she's gone, and District Twelve's gone, and I'm stuck for a moment in a whirling haze of color and cries. And that's the last I remember.

* * *

**A/N - I hope you liked this. I purposely left out the names of Katniss's children. Please tell me what you thought. **

**Also, you should check out FireBird128's Hunger Games story. It's very good. **


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